


About That Uniform

by Forlorn_Melody



Series: The Story of a Hero [1]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Miranda is as straight as uncooked spaghetti, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-07-16 05:43:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16079633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forlorn_Melody/pseuds/Forlorn_Melody
Summary: It's no secret that Artemis Shepard--Hero of the Alliance and Savior of the Citadel--hates Cerberus more than anything in the galaxy. The Illusive Man entrusts Miranda Lawson with the task of securing Shepard's loyalty by any means necessary. But who is seducing who?





	1. A Rough Start

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a conversation over this shitpost on Tumblr: http://forlornmelody.tumblr.com/post/176165655646/about-that-uniform

Of all things Miranda expected to see today, seeing Shepard in her underwear wasn’t one of them. Yet here she stands, one hand on her hips and the other fisted at her side. Normally, Miranda would see such an act as flirtatious, but the frown on Shepard’s face tells her otherwise.

“Something I can help you with, Commander?”

 _Recruit Shepard at all costs,_ the Illusive Man had said. Miranda had a feeling she wouldn’t be meeting that objective any time soon.

“Did you find me some clothes?”

Pinching her nose, Miranda sighs heavily. “We did. Unfortunately, they are not in your size.”

“Too bad.” Shepard smirks, _smirks_ , as she steps closer to Miranda’s desk. “It’ll be at least few days til we dock at the Citadel.”

Miranda finds herself at eye level with Shepard’s belly button. Her scars don’t detract from her finely cut abdomen--they enhance it. Not until Shepard coughs (and contracts said muscles) does Miranda realize she’s been staring. She also clears her throat, pointedly looking Shepard in the eyes. “The markets of Omega are much closer than--”

Shepard leans down, lowering her voice as she braces her hands on Miranda’s desk. “Oh, I know.” The light in Miranda’s office glimmers across the satin in Shepard’s bra, and it casts soft shadows between her breasts. “But we’re going to the Citadel first.”

And why would recruiting Shepard be an easy task? A colonist turned war hero, Commander Shepard died a glorified saint in the Alliance military. Cerberus didn’t consider the Alliance an enemy, but the Alliance certainly didn’t return the sentiment.

“You know we need to recruit the Salarian Scientist for our tech upgrades.” Miranda stands, also bracing her hands on her desk.

“Mmhm. But first I need to talk with the Council.” Shepard turns around and sashays out of Miranda’s office.

Watching the door slide closed, Miranda sinks in her chair as cold pools in her stomach. Oh for the love of humanity --Shepard’s planning on turning them in.

 

* * *

 

The mission to Freedom’s Progress went both better and worse than expected. Shepard now believes in the existence of the Collectors, but her team has yet to stop the Collectors from abducting any more human colonists. And then there was the Quarian. Tali Vas Neema was quick to point out Cerberus’s wrongs, as if the Alliance soldier needed any reminders.

The three of them had just reached the CIC when Shepard spun around and stopped, both Jacob and Miranda nearly colliding with their commander. “Okay. That’s it. Either give me something else to wear or I’m walking about the Normandy in my underwear.”

Miranda’s eyes widened. “Please don’t.”

Jacob snickered, elbowing her. “Oh, come _on_ , Miranda. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” He was enjoying this.

Miranda glared at Jacob until his smile vanished, then turned toward Shepard. “Commander, there are multiple outfits in your cabin.”

Shepard folded her arms, marching toward the elevator. “There better be one without a Cerberus logo on it.”

“I believe we salvaged something suitable from Freedom’s Progress,” Miranda called out after her. “At least I hope we did,” she muttered under her breath.

 

* * *

 

Miranda’s private call with the Illusive Man goes just as well.

“And how are things with Shepard?”

Miranda stiffens. “Might I remind you, sir, my recommendation for a mind control implant.”

“Which I rejected, I know.” The Illusive Man taps his cigarette against the edge of his ashtray, dislodging the ash on the end, before setting it aside. “Might I remind you how we need Commander Shepard to be exactly as she was before she died.”

“She was an Alliance soldier, sir--who considered us terrorists.”

The Illusive Man stands, glass in hand, his amusement reflected in the liquid of his favorite bourbon. “Worried you’re not up to the task, Operative Lawson?”

“Are you firing me, sir?”

“Not at all.” He softens.  “I have no doubt in your abilities, Miranda. It’s why I assigned you this mission.” The Illusive Man sips the whiskey, before setting the glass down. “But perhaps this _particular_ task requires a softer approach.”

“Sir?”

  
“I’m forwarding additional details of Shepard’s service and personal history. Perhaps you’ll find them useful.” It’s his way of saying, _you better make use of them._

* * *

 

Miranda Lawson is always thorough in her work. Meticulous. Organized. Perfect to a fault. It’s she finds the Illusive Man’s suggestion so insulting.

She sips her black tea, fresh, organic, and sustainably harvested from Horizon as she pours over the data the Illusive Man sent her. At first, the data seems utterly irrelevant. Photographs of Shepard and her squad exploring the Presidium. Security footage of Shepard purchasing upgrades in the Wards. Autopsy reports from her own lab at the Lazarus Project. Miranda seeks relevant details, reviewing the data cache over and over, and finding nothing.

It’s not until Miranda examines a tabloid report she’s previously ignored--that she realizes the Illusive Man’s insinuation.

_Human Or Alien--Commander Artemis Shepard Swings For The Ladies._

The photograph beneath the headline shows Shepard leaning just a _little_ too close to her subordinate than Alliance regulations would allow. Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams grins back at her--and is that her hand on Shepard’s chest?

_Bloody hell._

Miranda closes the tabloid, returning to the autopsy, already knowing what she’ll find. William’s DNA found on Shepard’s body. Traces of vaginal fluid and saliva, found on her thighs and in her mouth, suggesting sexual relations within an hour of the Normandy explosion. Conclusion--Williams and Shepard have a close relationship. Cerberus even considered recruiting Williams along with Moreau and Chakwas, only to realize the gunnery chief--now Operations Chief--hates Cerberus even more than Shepard does. She’s more of a liability than an asset.

And the Illusive Man needs Miranda to remove that weakness in Shepard’s armor.

Personally.

 


	2. Untouched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission to stop the Collectors is on track and ahead of schedule. Miranda's objective to seduce Shepard? The cart has gone completely off the rails.

Shepard buys colonist garb on the Citadel, leaving the dress she wore on Beckenstein to gather dust with her Cerberus uniforms. She also leaves Miranda to gather dust in her office, instead taking Garrus and Kasumi with her on missions to recruit the others. Even in her regular rounds about the ship, Shepard leaves Miranda’s office untouched. When Miranda confronts her about it, Shepard informs her that she’s just fine, thank you, with updates on the state of the mission and the crew sent to her private terminal. It’s as if Shepard knows Miranda’s objective and is deliberately thwarting it.

At least the recruitment missions are going as planned, if not better than planned. Rasa does excellent work.

Well, _most_ of the recruitment missions go as Miranda would like. Apart from one.

_Jack._

Jack. Last name unknown. Convicted of multiple violent crimes and sentenced to life in prison. Subject Zero of the Pragia Cell. Miranda can see why the Illusive Man would want her on the team--she’s the most powerful human biotic in the galaxy. She’s also the most likely to hate Cerberus.

The moment she sets foot on the ship, the convict demands access to Cerberus files. Shepard takes one look at Miranda and grants it to Jack, no questions asked. If she can’t turn them into the Alliance or Citadel custody--she’ll settle for getting them all blown up instead.

That night Miranda has a glass of bourbon instead of tea.

* * *

 

“You like her.” Jacob grins as wide as his face will allow.

“I do _not_.” By now, Miranda has profiled every known love interest of Artemis Shepard. She knows her type. She knows what pictures and vids Shepard spends the most time looking at on the Extranet. She knows Shepard’s methods of seduction and her habits of courtship. Miranda even has a good idea of who Shepard lost her virginity with.

EDI pipes in over the intercom. “The frequency at which you say Commander Artemis Shepard’s name, along with the relative body temperature increases during your REM cycles suggests physical attraction, Operative Lawson.”

Information, of course, is a double-edged sword. “Quiet, EDI.”

“Ha! Called _out_.” Jacob snorts, nudging her arm with his elbow.

Miranda presses her lips together, turning to face him. “Jealous, Jacob?”

Jacob dares to give her a quick once over, then he shakes his head. “Of Shepard? No. But I am happy for you two.”

“We aren’t _anything_ , Jacob.” Miranda turns on her heels, heading for the door.

“Keep telling yourself that, Miranda.” Jacob calls out as the door closes behind her.

* * *

 

Miranda’s situation seems hopeless until they touch down on Horizon. She suspects, though she can’t quite confirm, that the Illusive Man sought to help their chances by planting information on Shepard’s recent activities with Alliance operatives. When Operations Chief Ashley Williams comes to greet the resurrected Shepard, she does so with narrowed eyes instead of warmth.

For a moment, Artemis and Ashley embrace, and Miranda fears her hopes dashed. She even feels something else twinge in her gut. Jealousy? She can’t be jealous. Miranda personally worked on Shepard’s naked body for nearly two years. Not once did she... _feel_ anything other than the everyday concern and pride she would for any other project. Why would now be any different?

Oh, but it _is_ different.

Miranda sees it in the way Shepard deftly handles her gun, the way she glides over obstructions in a chase, the way her hips sway when she walks. Shepard when conscious, is _alive_. Power personified. Legend in physical form. And Miranda has no hold on her whatsoever.

At least, she doesn’t until Ashley confirms who Shepard is working with. Williams’s eyes flit over to Miranda in the middle of their conversation, and her face darkens. Shepard on the other hand, reels back as if slapped when Ashley accuses her of betrayal. She reaches out to Ashley as she walks away, only to drop her hand when her former lover fails to turn around.

Shepard says nothing in the shuttle. Her debrief in the com room is short and to the point, even Garrus seems surprised by her curt, muted responses. But Miranda sees her lip tremble and her eyes redden as she dismisses them.

Giving Shepard time to change out of her armor, Miranda then takes the elevator to her cabin. Shepard answers with wet cheeks and a roughened voice. “Here to tell me ‘I told you so?’”

Miranda shakes her head. “On the contrary. I came to see how you were doing. You and Chief Williams were close?”

Shepard snorts as she steps aside, allowing Miranda inside her cabin--a first in their entire working relationship. “Stop bullshitting me, Miranda. You threatened to blackmail me over her the moment we left the Lazarus Project.”

“Physically, yes. I didn’t realize you still had...an emotional attachment.”

“Miranda, if you don’t mind. I really don’t want to talk about it.”

Artemis Shepard, always the stubborn one. “As your executive officer, it’s my job to ensure--”

“Shut _up_ , Miranda!” Shepard’s fist slams against the glass of her display case, cracking it.

Miranda freezes. Not once has she seen Shepard lash out. Never has she heard one untoward phrase out of Artemis’ mouth. A farmer’s daughter on Mindoir, Artemis is as old-fashioned and homely as they come. This is the sort of behavior Miranda would expect from the crew’s resident convict, not from their commander. Taking a steadying breath, Miranda changes tactics. “For the record, I’m sorry it happened.”

Artemis softens, then snorts as she shakes her head. Leaning down, Shepard pulls out a bottle of what looks like expensive whiskey from her desk drawer. “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? No distractions? No loyalties to anyone but your boss?” She doesn’t offer Miranda a glass. Instead she sits on her bed, staring at the label.

_It’s certainly what the Illusive Man wants._ But is her loyalty what Miranda wants? “No.” All she wants in this moment is to see Shepard smile.

“Then what _do_ you want?” Artemis watches her, waiting.

“I want your trust.”

Artemis tosses the unopened bottle onto the mattress, pacing. “I didn’t ask for any of this.” Just as Miranda opens her mouth to argue, Artemis holds up a hand. “Yeah, I know. You saved my life, blah blah. But you never gave me the chance to say no.”

“You’re welcome to leave any--”

The commander turns to glare at her. “And go where, exactly? The Alliance won’t take me back. Not until they can spend precious time proving it’s really me.”

“You could always join a gang.”

Artemis laughs. Miranda can’t help but flood with warmth at the sound of it. “I’m not a criminal, Miranda. I’m a soldier.”

“Of course, you are.” Miranda dares to walk over to her. “You just take orders from a different organization. One that is trying to do some good--good the Alliance and the Council refuse to do.”

 “You might have a point.” Shepard sighs, leaning against the fish tank. “But I’ve seen Cerberus do too many awful things. I can’t just ignore that.”

“You sound like your ex.” Miranda has a report to write, and she can’t get Shepard to listen to reason. Perhaps she’ll have better luck tomorrow.

“She’s not my ex!” Shepard shouts as the door closes.

 


	3. Favor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda needs Shepard's help, and her trust. But how to get them when Artemis has sworn to hate Miranda's employer?

Miranda is content to ignore Shepard and focus on the mission, until her sister goes missing. Steeling herself for an argument, she calls the Commander down to her office. Shepard stands, arms folded, her expression still and cold. At least she’s clothed this time.

“I find myself in the unfortunate position of asking for your help.” Miranda stands, trying not to look as desperate as she feels. “Just five minutes of your time.”

Shepard rubs her face. Neither has been slept well as of late. “What is it, Miranda?”

“I never told you why I joined Cerberus.”

She can hear the smile in Shepard’s voice. “You mean it wasn’t the spacist propaganda?”

It’s a complete and ridiculous exaggeration, but Miranda can’t help but laugh at her frankness. “No. It was my father.” She goes on to explain how her father manipulated her upbringing, her behavior, even her genes to make her perfect. How she was just one in a long line of clones--and how she wasn’t the last.

Artemis jaw drops, and it takes her a second to compose herself. “You have a sister?” As if Miranda is nothing more than some robot operated by the Illusive Man.

Miranda nods, pacing around the room as she tells her story. Of her father and his relentless agenda, of her escape. Of how she rescued her sister and provided her with a _real_ family. She’s almost afraid to look at Shepard. She must.

Shepard looks like she’s been torn in two. Of course, she would. As a refugee of Mindoir, she knows what it’s like to be torn from the only family you’ve ever known. “How can I help?”

* * *

 

Shepard stops her from shooting Nicket, but it does him no good. Enyala, the merc boss, shoots him in the back of the head. Miranda and Shepard take her out together, but it doesn’t cover the hole Nicket left behind. The debrief, introducing herself to her Oriana, even the fight with Jack--all of it serves as a lovely distraction but it can’t save Miranda from the silence of her own office. Her own heartbeat is deafening in her ears, so much so that Miranda doesn’t hear Shepard come in.

“You okay, Miranda?”

Miranda realizes then that she’s been crying. She quickly wipes away the tears as if they’re just a minor irritation. “I’ll be fine, Shepard.”

 Shepard sits down on her couch, bypassing the desk entirely. She leans back against the cushions but keeps shifting her posture. “Must have been rough, seeing Nicket die like that.”

“If this is about Jack, I promise you I won’t let our differences get in the way of the mission.”

“I’m worried about you.” Artemis blurts out.

Miranda avoids the couch, sitting in a chair by the window instead. “I didn’t have many friends. Nicket was one of them.”

Artemis follows her, resting her hand on the back of the arm chair. “You gave him a chance, Miranda. That’s what matters.”

“He’s still dead, Shepard. Even if he tried to redeem himself.”

Shepard stumbles back as if slapped. Miranda sighs. “Sorry, Shepard.” As much as Miranda has lost, Shepard has lost so much more. “And thank you. I couldn’t have rescued my sister without you.” She stands, daring to take Artemis’ hand.

For once, Artemis doesn’t pull away. They lean against the window together, talking about Oriana, Miranda’s plans for the future, or lack thereof. Artemis squeezes her hand, daring to look her over. “Glad to see there’s a person under there.”

Miranda’s heart starts to race as she reaches with her free hand to touch Artemis’s face. Artemis blinks at her touch as if woken from a dream. “I’m sorry Miranda. The mission is too important.” She pulls away abruptly, stumbling towards the door.

“Thanks for coming by, Shepard!” MIranda calls out after her. Great. Just great. Must all their conversations end like this?

* * *

 

By now, Miranda feels awful for her... _personal_ directive regarding Shepard. She even has a cold feeling in her gut about the Illusive Man’s disregard toward his most valuable assets, but MIranda still needs Cerberus. Relocating Oriana and her family only serves as a reminder. If Cerberus fires her, who will she turn to? Right now, despite Shepard’s warming attitude--she can’t be counted on. Maybe...maybe Miranda can turn this in her favor. But she must act quickly.

Miranda’s mulling over ideas in the shower when the memory of Shepard’s touch strikes her. It gives her an idea.

The following day she hatches her plan.

  “Subtle, Miranda.” Artemis lathers up her dark curls, not bothering to turn around. The muscles in her olive-toned shoulders shift as her hands move across her scalp.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Shepard.”

“State of the art ship, and my shower just _happens_ to break down after we enter FTL?”

“Accidents do happen.”

“Not when you’re involved.” Shepard rinses her hair, finally looking at Miranda. “You’re trying seduce me.” Then her hands grasp Miranda’s waist, spinning her around so she’s face to face with Shepard, leaning against the shower wall. The Commander’s hands brace themselves on either side of Miranda’s head, and she stares into Miranda’s eyes with the heat of a planetary core. She says softly. “But am I the one being seduced here?”

For once, Miranda has no words. She’s sure her heart beats loud enough Artemis can hear it. Miranda can all too easily picture straddling Artemis in her bed and unraveling her steely demeanor one kiss at a time. But she doesn’t dare say that out loud.

“Cat got your tongue?” Artemis eyes her, and Miranda habitually leans in such a way to give her the best view. It’s a move that’s worked on so many men--but she’s never tried it on a woman before, especially not a woman named Artemis Shepard.

“Enjoying the view?” Miranda finally manages to say, a thrill racing through her as Artemis’s lips part.

Artemis leans in, her breath ghosting across Miranda’s lips. “Oh, definitely. But an eyeful isn’t going to get your boss what he wants, is it?” And then she’s gone. One perfunctory rinse and Artemis leaves Miranda alone, hot and sweaty, despite the water cascading down her shoulders.

 


	4. Damn Good Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hours before the Suicide Mission, and Miranda finds Shepard sitting in the lounge. Perhaps this is the opportunity Miranda's looking for. Or is it something more?

 

Miranda opens her terminal’s interface, and immediately sets it to privacy mode--a special setting she created to hide her personal activities, even from the Illusive Man. She visits an Extranet dating site, iPartner Connections, and opens the profiles of a few prospects. Holograms of their figures manifest in the middle of her room, and Miranda paces, examining the details as best as her interface will allow. Her mind keeps drifting back to Shepard, so she sips a glass of wine, quickly narrowing her matches down to three, before opening chats with each of them. One disqualifies due to his medical history, another is too chatty. Yet another writes her cheesy poetry--Miranda can’t block that one fast enough. Finally, she finds one who will do the trick, and she sets up a date on the Citadel.

The man performs nicely, and for a moment Miranda’s mind finally stops _thinking_ for one bloody second. As she puts her suit back on, she can’t help but wonder what Artemis thinks about sex. Her records don’t elaborate much. Artemis Shepard is discrete, or perhaps she eliminates those who seek to expose her--just like her namesake. Miranda wonders what seducing Shepard would feel like.

 

* * *

 

 

Hours before they enter the Omega 4 Relay, Miranda finds Shepard in the lounge. Kasumi has long since fallen asleep, softly snoring to the soundtrack of the viewing pod across the room from her bed. Shepard herself seems to have forgotten about everything else but the glass sitting in front of her. A glass, Miranda notices, that lacks the tell-tale smudge from her lips.

“Care if I join you, Commander?” Miranda stops a few feet away, afraid she’s intruding on a private moment, but she neither of them have time for privacy.

“Plenty of stools open.” Shepard nods to her right, but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge Miranda.

The Cerberus agent moves around the bar, eyeing the shelves of liquor.  “What are you drinking?”

“I’m not.” Shepard grimaces as Miranda turns around. “It’s hard to explain.”

“I’ve got time.” Miranda pours herself a finger of bourbon, neat. She sits next to Shepard before the soldier replies.

“I haven’t had a drink l since I enrolled in N School.”

“What about the bottle in your cabin?” Miranda asks, taking a sip, savoring the hints of pepper and molasses.

Shepard shrugs. “Saving it for a special occasion, I guess. Or an emergency.”

“A suicide mission doesn’t qualify?”

Shepard snorts. “I spent six years of my life as wasted as I could get away with. If I’m going to die on this mission, I want to _live_ every moment I can before that happens.”

Suddenly Miranda feels strange drinking next to her. “You were an alcoholic.”

“Still am.” Artemis glares at her glass. “I just haven’t had a drink in years.”

“You’re one of the strongest people I know.” Miranda says it softly, barely audible over the hum of the ship.

Artemis looks at her finally, and Miranda can see the bags under her eyes. The commander reddens and looks away. “Maybe I don’t want to be the strong one.”

Miranda traces the condensation forming towards the bottom of her glass. “I want to apologize, Shepard. When I first started working with you, I didn’t fully believe you were up to the task, and it seems I was wrong. Frankly, based on what I’ve seen, I wish Cerberus had recruited you earlier.”

Artemis sighs. “I want to trust you, Miranda, but I can’t trust Cerberus. Your experiments cross the line.”

“All the time, yes, but I recall a spectre who crossed a few lines herself hunting down Saren and the Geth.” Shepard makes a face but doesn’t say anything. “And we’d be lucky to have you. Too many join us out of simple xenophobia. We need more people here for the right reasons.”

Artemis slams her fist down, ranting about experiment after heinous experiment--the Thorian creepers, the Rachni--even Jack. Miranda calmly counters with reasoning she’s practiced in front of the mirror ever since the mission started.

“Then why join Cerberus?” Artemis folds her arms--guarded, but the fact that she’s willing to hear Miranda out says a lot.

“Because Cerberus never tells me something is impossible. They give me my resources and say do it.” Miranda dares to lean a little closer. “And they’ve given _you_ even more. A new life. A new ship. The Illusive Man’s personal attention.”

Artemis snorts. “You make it sound dirty.” As Miranda hides her expression with her glass, Shepard continues. “Seriously though, I was wrong about you. The best thing he did was putting you on my squad. I couldn’t do this without you.”

“Sure you could. I may not have believed it before but, I don’t have what you do--that fire that makes someone willing to follow you into Hell itself.” Miranda stands, walking towards the window. “My father got me the best genes money could buy. Guess it wasn’t enough.”

“Why do you always bring this up?” Artemis watches her, and after a moment, follows her until they’re side by side in front of the stars.

“This is what I am, Shepard. I can’t hide it. The intelligence, the looks, even the biotics--he paid for all of that.” Miranda’s throat feels thick. She probably had too much of that bourbon. Or maybe this is the effect Shepard has on her--on everyone. “Every one of your accomplishments is due to your skill.” The next part comes out in a whisper. “The only things I can take credit for are my mistakes.”

“Bullshit, Miranda.” Miranda jumps. Artemis never swears, except, it seems, around her. “Don’t you get it?” Her voice rises in volume so much Miranda swears it’ll wake up the thief across the room. “You are the most capable person I’ve ever met. That’s what pisses me off. Your skills are _wasted_ on Cerberus. Why help some shady shadow organization when you could be saving so many lives?”

“I saved yours.” Artemis smiles at that. “I had to. Based on your combat records, you’re a perfect, bloody human specimen.”

She leans closer, her breath washing across Miranda’s nose. It smells like cinnamon candy. She must have a stash in her cabin. “Perfect human specimen, huh?”

“Don’t get cocky. I do damn good work.” She runs a finger down Artemis’s cheek.

Shepard shivers at her touch. “Yeah you do.” They stand so close, Miranda isn’t sure who kisses who first. Sparks race through Miranda’s veins--and the room warms by several degrees--but it’s over too soon.

“What the hell was that?” Miranda smirks tasting Shepard’s peppermint chapstick on her lips.

Shepard pales. “A mistake.”

“Bullshit.” Miranda throws the word back at her, surprised at her own anger. She’s never been this emotionally involved with a mark before. Why is this different?

“I want you more than anything, I do.” Artemis traces her face with her fingers. “But I can’t compromise who I am. Especially not now.”

Miranda’s hands ball into fists. “Sleeping with me wouldn’t tarnish you, _Commander._ ” She turns away. Artemis grabs her shoulder.

“Miranda, wait. That’s not what I meant.” Her hand slides down, squeezing Miranda’s slender fingers in her own. “If you left Cerberus, it would be different.”

“Would it really?”

Shepard nods. “But I can’t sleep with you with the Illusive Man watching your every move.”

“I can’t leave Cerberus. You know that.”

Artemis, to her credit, sinks as she nods. “Yeah. I’m sorry, Miranda. I wish you the best.”

“I suggest we both get some sleep.” Miranda kisses her cheek, placing a sedative in her hand.

Hesitating ever so slightly, Artemis returns the kiss to Miranda’s cheek. “Thank you.”

“Any time, Shepard.”

 


	5. Spinning (Explicit)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly smut. Just FYI.

Miranda leaves the sick bay with her mind spinning--the pain meds offer no help. She sinks into her chair, wincing as the impact jostles her injuries. It’s the only thing that convinces her this isn’t some nightmare. For the first time, Miranda has nothing to tie her down--even if she wanted it to.

_Consider this my resignation._

She had practically spit it out at the Illusive Man’s holographic projection. Why did she do that? She needed him--still needs him to keep Oriana safe.

_Because Shepard is right_. Because Cerberus is an evil organization, despite all its aims to better humanity. Because sometimes progress comes at too high a cost.

Because harvesting a Collector base full of human corpses is irredeemable.

Miranda can’t breathe. She has to decide on her next course of action, but she can’t think. Shepard’s standing behind her before Miranda even realizes she’s entered the room.

“Miranda? Can we talk?” She holds a shoe box under her left arm.

“If it’s alright, Commander, I’m really not in the mood.” Miranda stands, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Artemis rocks back on her heels, hesitating in the same way she did back on the collector base. Miranda can see the same defiance in her eyes when she decides to stay put. “I really admire what you did back there.”

Grabbing a bottle of wine from her locker, Miranda huffs. “Quitting my job?”

“Heh. I mean standing up to the Illusive Man. That’s not easy.”

Miranda pours herself a glass, and almost pours Artemis one, before she remembers. She fills the second glass with sparkling water. “I’m sure it’ll come back to bite me soon enough.”

Artemis sits next to her on the couch, eyeing the bubbles. She seems…quiet? Shy? Distracted. It’s not like her at all. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

“Why did you come here? To congratulate me?” Miranda takes a bigger gulp than she should. She doubts the wine will clear her head, but she’s willing to try anything.

“I really admire you, Miranda.” Artemis twists the glass clockwise and counterclockwise in her hands, watching the light bounce off the glass. Her words come out in a whisper, almost as if she’s talking to her drink, and not the woman next to her. “You...you don’t let anyone define you.”

“Oh please, Shepard. You’re the one who saved the Galaxy-- _twice_. The one who came back from the dead.”

Artemis looks up at her. “You helped me save the Collector Base.” She smiles shyly. “Hell, _I_ did nothing to come back from the dead. That was all you.”

“Which I wouldn’t have done if not for all the things you’d done in the past.” Miranda stretches her hands to hide her nerves. The wine is not doing its job _fast enough_. “It’s not a competition. Why are you telling me all this?”

The woman in front of her swallows hard and takes a big gulp of her water as if it’s a shot of whiskey. “I really _like_ you, Miranda.”

“Thank you, Shepard. That’s really nice of--”

Artemis slams her glass down on the coffee table, a line forming in what will soon be a critical crack in its face. “I’m _gay_ , Miranda. Do you really think I would go to all this trouble because I _like you as a friend?”_

Oh hell. She’s going to need a lot more wine. “You’re... _interested_ in me.” This. Well. This is…what is she supposed to say in this situation? God, she feels like she’s _fifteen again_. “Romantically?” Dare she say it? “Sexually??” The word practically squeaks out of her mouth.

Artemis traces her finger across the table. “I know...well, I’m _pretty sure_ you are... _were_ interested in me before. But now that you’re not on the Illusive Man’s orders--”

How did she…? “Shepard--”

“I know the Shadowbroker, Miranda. They had a lot of intel on your inbox.” Artemis rubs her face as Miranda flushes as red as her wine. The nerve of— “I know the Illusive Man wanted you to…” She grimaces. “Turn me. By getting into my pants. Real creative.” Hitting the table three times, she dares to look up at her. “What I want to know is….do you still want me?”

The word is out of her mouth before she can stop it. “Yes.” Miranda gulps the rest of her glass.

Artemis relaxes, letting out a breath of air. She allows herself to look Miranda over once. “Great.” Then she allows herself to step closer, so that Miranda’s biotics stir the ends of her hair.

Before Artemis can do or say anything else, Miranda blurts out. “Shepard...Artemis...I... _this_ is all very new to me.” And now all that wine is making her hot all over. Or is it the amazon standing so very, very close to her?

Raising an eyebrow, Artemis opens her mouth...then snaps it shut. “Oh…I see.” She dares to reach forward, tucking a loose strand behind Miranda’s ear. “You haven’t done this with a woman before.” Artemis smirks.

“Don’t be so smug.” Miranda steps forward, crowding her. “I can still make you beg.”

God, that grin. “Looking forward to it.” And then she steps back. “But seriously. Let’s not rush this.” She squeezes Miranda’s hands in her own. “How far do you want to take this? Tonight?”

Always so sweet and considerate. Still a saint, even in the sheets. “Artemis. Do I look like someone who is _anything_ but efficient?”

Shepard steps forward, bumping her forehead against hers, and _laughing_. “Miranda. I’m _not_ going to get blue balls if we take too long. _Relax_.”

“I am relaxed!”

Artemis dares to kiss her cheek. “You’re...buzzed. I think.”

Miranda crashes forward, stealing a simmering kiss that leaves them both breathless. “I did _not_ just drink all that wine so you could turn me down again.” She slides a finger from her chin, down Artemis’s long neck, between her breasts (as much as her colonist gear will allow.) “And I want you. _All_ of you. Tonight. It just…” It takes all of her to say it out loud. “It might not be as perfect as you’d expect.”

Hugging her tight, Artemis whispers into her ear. “I want you just the way you are. Full of mistakes just like me.”

Miranda dares to hug back, breathing in the amber and the salt of her skin. How long has it been since she simply held someone? And was held in turn? She almost doesn’t want to let go, but she does, pressing her lips against Artemis’s again, slower and slightly more sure. They feel so soft against hers.

Artemis pulls back, breathless with stars in her eyes. “See?” She takes a breath. “Not so bad.” Cupping Miranda’s cheek, she presses deeper into Miranda’s lips, parting her own ever so slightly.

She tastes like fire. Miranda will never taste cinnamon candy again without thinking of this moment. Wiping her mouth, Miranda pushes Shepard toward the bed, until she’s falling back onto the mattress.

The commander laughs, toeing her boots off. She leans back on her elbows, watching Miranda saunter closer. Her grin widens as Miranda crawls over her. Goosebumps race down her arms as Miranda straddles her lap.

Artemis’s eyes search her over, and she reaches for the zipper on the side of her uniform, before Miranda bats her hand away. “Let me.”

Nodding, Artemis lays all the way back, pillowing her head on her arms. Her eyes darken with heat as Miranda peels the zipper down. “Wow.”

Miranda knows she’s beautiful. She’s always known. Men have always looked at her the same way. But something about seeing that look in Artemis’s eyes makes her burn inside. “Like what you see?”

“ _Mmhm_.” Artemis shifts, her thighs bumping the back of Miranda’s butt. “Do I get to touch you now or…?”

She can’t help the laugh that falls from her lips. “Mm... possibly. Have you been good, Commander?”

Artemis’s laugh shakes them both. “I... I’m not sure. I _did_ just quit my job. Without notice.”

“Shame.” Miranda reaches behind her, undoing her bra, and the woman beneath her sucks in a breath at the sight of her bare chest. “If you were _good_. I might let you undress me.” She taps Shepard’s nose. “But you weren’t good. You were naughty.” Falling forward, she puts her hands on either side of Artemis’s head, and lets her breasts dangerously close to her face.

“Oh.” Shepard breathes heavier, trying so very hard not to swear, but it seems her brain has stopped working. “Fuck.”

Miranda traces her lip with her finger. “See? Even your mouth is filthy.”

Shepard kisses her finger tip. “You seem to like it, though.”

“Indeed.” Her voice cracks as she tries to steady her nerves. “W-why don’t you put it to good use?”

Shepard laughs, scooting back on the bed until she’s sitting up against Miranda’s pillows, and waits for Miranda to follow. She captures Miranda’s lips first, tasting her mouth, and trailing her kisses down the same path her fingers took before, and back up until her lips are underneath Miranda’s chin.

Miranda pulls the pins out of Artemis’s hair, swearing softly as her long, raven hair tumbles down her shoulders. She can’t help but finger one of the curls.

“Haven’t you seen my hair down before? Before you woke me up?” Artemis looks up at her.

“Of course. I styled it myself.”

“Does it really look all that different now?”

“It does when it frames that smile of your--”

Artemis interrupts her with a kiss, full of longing. “Did I mention that I really, really like you?”

“Mmhm.” Miranda kisses back, undoing Shepard’s overalls. As the top slips to her waist, Miranda traces the scars on Shepard’s collarbone. Most of her surgical scars have faded, but there are a few new ones--burn marks, a bump in the bone from when she refused to let it rest properly. She looks up to find Artemis watching her closely.

“I know it’s a lot but--”

“Shh.” Miranda silences her with a finger, leaning down to kiss each of those scars, and she shivers at the moan that slips from Shepard’s lips. With each kiss, Shepard relaxes a little more, and one of her hands winds its way into Miranda’s hair as her lips close around her nipple.

“Mm.” Artemis sighs softly, her fingernails scraping gently against Miranda’s scalp.

Suckling until her tit is nice and erect, Miranda pulls back and looks up at her. “How does that feel?”

Artemis shrugs. “It’s...it’s more that I like to watch.”

“I see. But I’m not going to let you just _lie_ there all night.” Miranda shivers as Shepard sits up again, kissing her breast. She’s always been sensitive there, and she downright melts when Artemis licks her lips and pulls her into her mouth. With her hand, she caresses Miranda’s other breast.

Artemis proves as relentless in her affection as she is in a fight, not leaving off until Miranda pushes her head down lower. They rearrange themselves so that Miranda sits on the bed, with Shepard between her legs.

“Getting impatient, are we?” Artemis snickers against her skin, pressing featherlight kisses down her stomach. She undoes Miranda’s belt, easing the skin-tight suit down past her hips, lifting her off the bed until the uniform is down past her ankles. “There. Much better.” Waiting for Miranda to nod, she kisses the top of her thigh, inside it, never quite reaching her center.

Miranda breathes heavier, twisting her fingers into her silken sheets. “Artemis…”

“Mm?” Artemis hums against her skin playfully, squeezing her knee.

Turning as red as blood, Miranda manages to say, “Don’t keep me waiting.”

“Shh.” Artemis squeezes her again, reassuringly, pushing her legs further apart. She hums appreciatively at the lace thong Miranda wears underneath and starts to lean down before she remembers something. “Hold on a sec.”

“Oh, come _on_ , Artemis.” Miranda is going to come out of her _skin_ if she has to wait any longer.

“Safety first.” Artemis pushes off the bed, going back to the shoebox she brought in.

She brings it to the bed, setting it on Miranda’s bedside table. Pulling off the lid, she reveals a collection with a rather singular purpose.

“Oh.” Miranda swallows, watching as Shepard puts on one rubber glove, and uses a pair of scissors to cut out a rectangle out of the second.

Artemis sets the scissors aside and pulls Miranda’s thong down to her ankles. “Habit,” she says, “I hope you don’t mind.”

Miranda shakes her head, licking her lips as Artemis places the rectangle on top of her _very_ wet cunt, and gets to work. She starts off light, working her tongue over her folds. Taking her time, she watches Miranda's reactions until she finds a rhythm that makes Miranda squirm. As Miranda’s fingers find their way back into her hair, Artemis presses deeper, tracing underneath the dental dam with her gloved fingers, murmuring appreciatively at Miranda’s moans. One finger slips inside like butter, then another, and she pumps and beckons with those fingers as she sucks on Miranda’s clit. Artemis pulls again and again, like she does on her favorite gun, until Miranda’s world explodes with the heat of a dying star.

She opens her eyes, later, to see Artemis lying next to her, grinning like she does when she’s taken out an enemy with one shot. “Not bad, huh?”

Pulling Artemis into a fierce, breathless, kiss, Miranda stares directly into her eyes. “Shepard-- _Artemis_ , that was incredible.”

Artemis plants a soft kiss against her forehead. “Ready for another?”

Miranda blinks. “What about you?”

The marine’s eyes widen. “Oh! Uh…. if you want. I mean, if you’re comfortable.” She scratches the back of her neck, sitting up.

One of Miranda’s eyebrows quirks playfully. “Commander Artemis Shepard? _Shy?_ ” She lays a hand on her cheek, smirking. “Who would have thought?”

Artemis twists her lips. “I mean, it’s your first time and it might be weird and--”

Miranda presses a finger against her lips. “I want to.” She moves quickly, pulling Shepard’s leather overalls down past her hips. With bated breath, Shepard watches her work, managing to hold still until she’s as naked as Miranda.

“C’mere.” Artemis pulls her into a hungry kiss, doing her best to completely destroy Miranda’s carefully styled curls. Kissing up to her ear, Miranda takes her ear lobe into her mouth, suckling, and daring to nip it gently. Her lover sucks in a breath.

“Mm. I knew you would like teeth.” Miranda squeezes her arm. Shepard laughs, sighing softly as Miranda kisses and bites down her neck--tasting her, marking her. Taking a breath, she eyes Shepard before trailing her lips down between her breasts, and the carved lines of her abdomen. She loses herself in the salt of her skin, and the sharpness of her musk.

Artemis twists her hands in the sheets as Miranda moves past her belly button, biting her lip as her nose edges her curls. “Miri---”

Miranda looks up at her. “Oh. Right. You’re a Girl Scout.”

“Damn straight.”

“Not even remotely, Shepard.” Miranda pulls the gloves on and cuts out another square to place on Artemis’s clit.

Shepard’s laugh is drowned out by her own moans, and Miranda shivers at the sound. She tries to not let her nerves show, recalling her favorite moments of being at the mercy of someone else’s mouth, remembering what made her flesh sing. Miranda licks long and slow between her lips.

“Oh God.” Artemis’s hands twists in the sheets, and her hips buck forward.

“Mm. Sensitive, are we?” She traces long, languid circles, until Shepard’s moans start to rise in volume, and then she grins against her cunt, before sucking her clit like candy.

All the filthy words Artemis has held back come pouring out her mouth, and her hips rock into Miranda’s face. “Fuck, you’re good at this.”

“I’m never a slouch.” Just as Shepard starts to sit up, Miranda pushes her thighs back down onto the bed.

Artemis blinks back at her but doesn’t protest.

Miranda licks her lips. “I wanted to thank you, Commander, for showing me a really good time.” Her eyes flash blue, and Artemis gasps as she realizes what Miranda’s planning. “And for so much more.” She leans down, kissing her buddle of nerves again, letting her biotics buzz through her gloves against Shepard’s mound.

“Nnng.” Artemis’s head falls back against the pillow, not realizing it when her thighs squeeze Miranda’s shoulders.

“That good, huh?” Tracing her folds through the rubber, Miranda sneaks them beneath the lower end, and into Artemis’s throbbing cunt. Her insides squeeze Miranda’s fingers.

“Yes. YES!” Artemis pants, writhing under Miranda's touch. "Oh _God_."

Miranda grins against her, keeping her biotics going with a steady hum of a barrier. She grins at the irony, moving her fingers in and out as she suckles her clit again.

Artemis’s chest rises and snaps back to the mattress, a helpless whimper falling from her lips. It’s not long before her vagina clenches like a vice around Miranda’s fingers. Miranda works her through it, finally pulling back and disposing of her gloves when Artemis pulls her hand away. She settles by her side, grinning like an idiot.

“You really are something.” Artemis reaches over, pushing a sweaty lock of hair out of Miranda’s face.

“So are you.” Miranda nuzzles her hand. “Shepard--Artemis, I--”

The office intercom buzzes, pulling them both out of their daydream. “Commander. Admiral Hackett would like to speak to you on vidcom.” EDI says neutrally, as if she only interrupted a casual debrief.

“Hackett??” Artemis stares at the ceiling, wide-eyed. Sure, they had kept in touch. Shepard had even done a few small missions for the Alliance here and there. Unofficially, of course.

“Yes, Commander. He has an urgent matter he wishes to discuss.”

Artemis, to her credit, sits up as if she’s still wearing her clothes. “Thanks, EDI. Tell him I’ll be up in 5.” She kisses Miranda apologetically before reaching for her clothes.

“No rest for the wicked.” Miranda sighs, sitting up, still warm and sated from their time together. She usually isn’t one to cuddle after sex, but part of her wishes they could.

Shepard pulls her overalls on, glancing back at her. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” She falters, nearly falling to the bed when she grabs her shoes. “I mean...if, if you want to.”

“You’re...serious.”

“I’m never a slouch either.” Shepard winks at her, fastening her shoes and using Miranda’s hairbrush and her mirror to put her hair back in its regulation bun. Is that hickie going to be noticeable in her terminal’s camera? Hopefully not. “Catch you later.” She blows her a kiss before she heads out the door.

 


	6. Epilogue

The Shepard who comes back from Aratoht is different than the one who left. That light that shown in her eyes after returning from the Omega 4 Relay has left, leaving a shadow in its place. She calls her squadmates and her pilot into the com room and informs them of her crime. Her words come out of her mouth dry and withered, and Shepard informs her crew of her plans to turn herself in.

“Commander, you can’t.” Joker looks at her stricken, as if she’s just volunteered to jump out the airlock. In a way she has.

“They’ll ground you. Strip away your uniform and your command. Are you sure about this, Commander?” Dr. Chakwas watches her closely, looking for physical symptoms she can treat. But what medicine can treat guilt? What can cure the shame of an entire system of souls dead at Shepard’s hand?

Artemis looks weary. As if she’ll collapse any second. She leans heavily against the table. “This isn’t about answering for--for what I did.” Her skin greens, and she swallows down bile. “This is about warning The Alliance and the Council about the Reapers.”

Miranda finally dares to speak. “Shepard--Commander. They didn’t listen to you the last two times.”

Artemis’s eyes flash hot and bright. “I did _not_ just sacrifice 300,000 Batarian lives so they could stick their heads in the sand!”

Miranda’s whole body shakes with anger. “So what? They can stick you in a jail cell for six months while they establish that you’re the real Commander Shepard? You saw how Ashley Will--”

“Don’t you _dare_ bring her into this.”

“Damn.” Jack snorts. “I wish I brought popcorn.’

Shepard takes a breath. “Look. I’m not here to argue. I’m here to tell you all that you’ll need to be off the Normandy before we hit the Charon Relay.” She pulls up the galaxy map. “We can drop you off at Illium or Omega. Take your pick.” Not once does she look at Miranda.

Garrus clears his throat. “And what if the Alliance doesn’t listen?”

Artemis winces. “Then I guess we’re all doomed. We’re hitting up Omega first. Forward me your choices by 0700.”

 

* * *

 

When Miranda finds her in the lounge, Shepard has poured herself a glass. Her eyes stare bloodshot into nothing, and her nails have been bit down to their beds.

“Shepard?” Miranda asks softly, approaching like she would an injured animal. Shepard doesn’t answer. “Artemis?”

The commander doesn't turn around, but she answers with a cracked voice. “Have you picked a place yet?”

Miranda sits on the stool next to her. “I have some contacts I can reach on Illium.” She pours herself a glass of ginger ale. “You could come with me.”

Artemis swallows, her hands twisting into her hair. “I can’t run. Not yet. I owe the galaxy that much.”

“You don’t owe the galaxy a bloody thing, Commander. You already died once to save them.” Her biotics, which she has honed over the years and kept under careful control, shatter her glass. “And now they want your soul too?”

Resting her head on the counter as if she’s leaning on a guillotine, Artemis closes her eyes. “I don’t deserve to keep it. Not after what I did.”

“I read your report, Shepard. You had no choice.”

Artemis snaps. “There’s _always_ a choice.”

Miranda squeezes her hand, whispering. “Not when that choice is taken from you.”

She opens her eyes then, looking at the woman who has had to fight for every choice she’s made, her entire life. “Guess you would know a thing or two about that.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Artemis pushes off the counter, eyeing the full glass in front of her. “Running away would mean giving up the fight. I _want_ to give up. But I can’t. Not yet.”

Miranda downs her ginger ale like it’s full of vodka. “I know. But once you land on Earth I’m afraid I’ll never see you again.”

Pulling her into a hug, Artemis squeezes her fiercely. “I’ll do everything I can to find you again.” She breathes her in as if she contains all the oxygen in the room. “You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”

At first, Miranda is hurt by the notion of not being the _only_ good thing, but she remembers her sister Oriana, and how she treasures their new relationship. It’s nice not being the only good thing in Shepard’s life. “Likewise.”

 

* * *

 

Miranda is the last to leave the ship on Illium. Only Joker stays on the Normandy, despite Shepard’s protests. “The Normandy can fly on her own, Joker. Just punch in the damn coordinates.”

“Not happening, Commander. I’m not leaving you this time. I don’t fucking care if you break my arm.”

Artemis storms out of the cockpit, nearly bumping into her. “Miranda?”

Miranda nods, pulling her into a kiss. “I wasn’t going to leave without saying goodbye.”

Artemis swallows thickly. “Thanks.” She blinks as her omni-tool bleeps. “What is this?”

“Contact information for the best Alliance attorneys in Vancouver. I have a feeling that’s where they’ll host your tribunal.”

“Miranda--”

“Don’t worry about your assests being frozen. The cost has already been covered.” Miranda narrows her eyes. “I’m not letting them take you without a fight.”

Artemis kisses her this time, not leaving her mouth until she’s gasping for air. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Miranda smiles. “That’s not going to happen.” She squeezes Shepard’s hand, not wanting to let go.

“Miranda, I--”

“Commander, another ship is requesting this docking bay.” EDI chimes in over the intercom.

The tears come then, slipping from both their eyes. Artemis hugs her one last time. “I’ll find you Miranda, I promise.”

Miranda knows she can’t promise anything, but she accepts anyway, hugging her side. “I know.”

“Take care, Miranda.”

“You too, Shepard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably make a Mass Effect 3 based sequel to this at some point. Thank you so much for reading, and leaving kudos and comments!


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